Unconventional (1875)
by San Antonio Rose
Summary: A snapshot of another world - before the CIA, before the FBI, even before the electric light became common - wherein Team Gibbs may answer to a different president and use different technology but are still very definitely Team Gibbs. (Steampunk AU, gen, fusion of sorts with The Wild Wild West)


A/N: This is an _old_ fill from a comment_fic "Alternate History" thread that I keep thinking about expanding and never do. I re-read it tonight and decided to post it here as is. I can't promise that I'll ever come back to this AU, either to continue this story or start a new one, but I hope you enjoy this tidbit anyway.

Original prompt from scarlet_gryphon: "Processing crime scenes in a steampunk world is always interesting (and twice as likely to cause things to explode)."

* * *

Unconventional (1875)  
By San Antonio Rose

There were those who claimed that Abby Sciuto was a witch, given her interest in the chemistry of blood and poisons and other unsuitable topics for a woman's study.

There were those who claimed that Ziva David, daughter of a Viennese Jewish spymaster, was a hussy for always wearing a riding skirt.

There were those who called L. Jethro Gibbs a martinet, Tony DiNozzo a gigolo or Mafia pawn, Timothy McGee a foolish dreamer, Donald "Ducky" Mallard a Limey has-been, and Jimmy Palmer a pup better left on the farm. All who held such opinions believed categorically that President Grant had made a mistake in hiring such oddballs to investigate crimes against the Navy.

They were all wrong.

* * *

DiNozzo made certain the warning cordon was tight around the boundaries of the crime scene while David placed the last number marker and called to McGee to begin taking photographs with the handheld tintype camera he'd perfected the previous year. When McGee was ready to begin, David held a lantern for him to illuminate the scene. Gibbs finished checking with the police officers on the scene and made his way to the corpse Drs. Mallard and Palmer were examining, the late Marine Lt. Paul Jacobson. Palmer, in fact, was hurriedly labeling a blood sample vial.

"Whaddaya got, Duck?"

"This crime scene was staged, Jethro," Ducky replied. "I'll know more for sure once I get this blood sample to Abby and perform the autopsy, but this bullet wound appears to have been inflicted post-mortem—almost immediately, but likely not quickly enough. I'm concerned that the actual cause of death might be some toxin that breaks down rapidly, and as the time of death was just over an hour ago, that leaves her precious little time to find it."

Gibbs nodded. "DiNozzo."

DiNozzo hurried over while Palmer made notes in his log book and put the vial in a cushioned case. "Yeah, Boss?"

Gibbs nodded to Palmer. "Get that back to the _Navy Yard_."

"Sure, Boss." DiNozzo initialed the log Palmer held out to him, took the case with the vial, then mounted his horse and galloped away into the night toward the private train that held their mobile command center, including a cold-storage car for autopsy and a laboratory car for their forensic scientist.

That urgent task completed, Ducky and Palmer arranged the body on a stretcher and carried it toward the coroner's wagon. Gibbs, meanwhile, made his way over to David and McGee, whose pockets bulged with slides as he finished his photography.

"Boss," said he, "this blood trail's not consistent with someone walking and bleeding. And there are definite signs of something being dragged the same direction."

"The direction _opposite_ the direction of the footprints," David added, "suggesting that perhaps the body was dragged by someone walking backward."

Gibbs nodded. "You about done here?"

McGee nodded. "Just need to label and log these."

"Good. Go ahead. When you're done, we'll start taking witness statements. David, take those back to the _Navy Yard_."

Both agents agreed and completed the tagging and logging of the photographs with efficient speed while Ducky and Palmer started the wagon back toward the train. However, about the time they finished, DiNozzo galloped back up to the scene, grinning.

"What?" Gibbs demanded.

DiNozzo chuckled. "Boss, Abby's new plasma distillation array? So-ho-ho much faster. She thinks she'll have something for you by the time you get back... as long as it doesn't blow up."

"Is it likely to?"

"No. I... don't think so."

Gibbs huffed, which was his equivalent of a laugh. "You're with McGee. C'mon, Ziver."

As he and David returned to their horses and McGee and DiNozzo started bickering good-naturedly on their way to interview witnesses, Gibbs calculated how many of Abby's special coffee-centered chocolates her finding a quick answer to the toxicological question would deserve. Jacobson had been killed mere moments before he was due to meet with Gibbs to pass on counter-espionage information; identifying that poison, if poison it was, would narrow down the list of suspects fast.

There had been mishaps over the last five years, but Gibbs' team still had one of the best records of success of any federal investigative unit. And he was not about to let that change now.


End file.
